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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212540">Family Portraits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow'>GilliganGoodfellow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ableism, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Coma, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecure Lambert, Insecurity, Lambert Needs a Hug (The Witcher), Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Protective Vesemir (The Witcher), Self-Hatred, Soft Lambert (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:54:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Family, the book is called.<br/>In it, Jaskier has drawn pictures of Vesemir, Eskel and Geralt.<br/>There are pictures of Kaer Morhen and the valley. One of the cats that lives in the yard, and the horses in the stables.<br/>Geralt has added his own sketches and words in the margins. Eskel has written out the lyrics to an old song he likes to sing.<br/>On the last page of the book, Vesemir has drawn Jaskier’s portrait.</p><p>The last page of the book that they think Lambert doesn’t know about.<br/>The book without a single picture of Lambert in it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel &amp; Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Lambert, Lambert &amp; Vesemir (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>273</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he lays in the fog, Lambert can hear and feel something in the distance. Warm water and soft touches, quiet voices and droplets as the washcloth lifts from the surface and runs down his arms, his chest and legs. Then fingers in his hair, scrubbing into his scalp and brushing soap along the strands.</p><p>“Lets rinse his hair.” Vesemir’s voice. “Gently, Eskel.” </p><p>The sound is muffled, and the warm sensation of the water surrounds him completely, hands brushing through strands of his hair. Then he is sitting up again, lifted out of the water and leant against something, no someone, while a towel dries his skin and hair.  </p><p>“There.” Vesemir has a smile in his voice. “I expect that that feels much better, my boy. Let’s get you dressed. Eskel, could you fetch the broth we made up, please.”</p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> In Vesemir’s portrait he is standing on the battlements, watching over his sons as they train.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The cloth that surrounds him is not Lambert’s usual sleep shirt. No, this is softer, it feels like the silk shirt that Jaskier wears to sleep. The material is gentle against his skin as the blankets are tucked over him, pulled up to his chest. He is leant back against the pile of pillows, half sitting up.</p><p>He can smell chicken.</p><p>A sensation passes over him, a sensation with Eskel’s voice telling him to open his mouth, to chew, to swallow. The axii speaks again with Eskel’s voice, and he swallows more of the broth. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> In Eskel’s portrait he is sitting with one of the goats in his lap, chewing on the end of a piece of straw, his legs crossed, feet bare. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He hears a spoon rest in an empty wooden bowl, and then fingers in his hair again as the pillows are rearranged beneath him. They turn him over to curl onto his side. </p><p>“We will need to keep turning him like this.” Vesemir is saying. “Otherwise he will develop sores.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Eskel’s voice is quiet, broken. </p><p>The door opens, and Lambert hears Geralt’s voice. “How is he?”</p><p>“Still no change.” Vesemir says, quietly. “Jaskier?” </p><p>“He’s in his room.” Geralt sounds angry. “Still blaming himself.” </p><p>“Then you need to reassure him. This was an accident and nothing more. There is no blame.”</p><p>“He isn’t listening to me.”</p><p>“I’ll talk to him.” Eskel stands. </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> In Geralt’s portrait he is holding his silver sword, ready for battle, armour and hair shining.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the dream (memory) Lambert is sitting (hiding) in the rafters, watching Geralt pose for his portrait while Jaskier draws, looking up and down constantly, pencil dancing over the paper. “This is perfect. Thank you.”</p><p>“Hmmm.” Geralt adjusts his position slightly, still holding up the silver sword. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>‘Family’, the book is called. </p><p>Jaskier has drawn pictures of Vesemir, Eskel and Geralt. </p><p>“This is beautiful work, young man.” Vesemir says as he inspects the drawings. "But there’s someone missing."</p><p>Sitting (hiding) in the rafters, Lambert smiles, but then his heart breaks as Vesemir points at Jaskier’s shoulder. </p><p>“You deserve a place in this book as much as anyone.”</p><p>“I...I’m not part of…”</p><p>“Yes you are, Jaskier.” Vesemir says, his word final as it always is. “Sit, I will draw your portrait.”</p><p>“You will?”</p><p>“You’ll need to bear with me, my boy. It has been a while since I have indulged in the arts.”</p><p>In his hiding place, Lambert doesn’t realise he’s crying until the tears drop from his chin to his hands. He wipes angrily at his eyes, and watches Vesemir add Jaskier to the final page of the book. </p><p>The smile on the bard’s face is ridiculous. Happy. Hopeful. </p><p><em> You deserve a place in this book as much as anyone </em>.</p><p>A family he has always dreamed of. </p><p>“There.” Vesemir says, when the portrait is done. “<em> Now </em> the book is finished.”</p><p>When the hall is empty, Lambert simply jumps down from the rafters. It doesn’t matter if he hurts himself. </p><p>No one will care. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When everyone is asleep, Lambert takes the book from its hiding place in the library, as he has done on so many nights now, and he slowly looks through the portraits.</p><p>Jaskier has been working on the book for weeks. He has drawn pictures of Kaer Morhen and the valley. One of the cats that lives in the yard, and the horses in the stables. </p><p>Geralt has added his own sketches and words in the margins. Eskel has written out the lyrics to an old song he likes to sing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The old hen she cackled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She cackled on the fence.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The old hen she cackled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And she ain’t cackled since.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They haven’t even told Lambert about the book. It’s theirs. A thing they have that is nothing to do with him.</p><p>They think he doesn’t know about it. </p><p>Now <em> the book is finished. </em></p><p>He carries it over to the fire, but stops just before throwing it. </p><p>No. It’s not...it’s not Jaskier’s fault, it’s Lambert that is to blame for this. Lambert with his anger and his venomous barbs and...and…</p><p>...how can he expect to be loved when he is unlovable. When he isn’t good enough for them.</p><p>How can he expect to be part of a family when he only causes pain. Disappointment. Of course they don’t want him in the book.</p><p>Putting the collection of portraits back in its hiding place, he goes down to the main hall and pours a mug of his own moonshine.</p><p>Then another. </p><p>Another. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Maybe I should get Vesemir?”</p><p>“Yeah that’s right. Get your precious Vesemir.” Lambert spits, gulping on the drink and gagging as it assaults his senses. His throat burns. His stomach feels sick. He can barely stand but he stumbles up the tower staircase anyway. Sloshed, stewed and fifty-seven other varieties of drunk. </p><p>“Let me help...”</p><p>“Don’t touch me, bard.” </p><p>“Lambert, please. Just tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Lambert stumbles up the stairs. “You know, it’s fine. Just, you just make them happy. You know that. They are so happy around you. And you deserve that.” He chuckles. “You’re...they deserve you, not me.”</p><p>“You make us happy too. I like your jokes. And how loyal you are to everyone. How much you love your family. How much you care about the animals in the yard and...what do you call that old cat you sneak treats to, Hildred?”</p><p>“Hildegarde.” Lambert huffs out a laugh, stumbling up a few more stairs in the tower. </p><p>“Shame I’m allergic. I’d like to get to know her.”</p><p>“Cats usually hate Witchers.” The wall is holding Lambert up. “I must be special. Lambert, friend of the cats.” He chuckles. “In more ways than one.”</p><p>“Why don’t we go find her? Hildegarde.” </p><p>“Just leave me alone.”</p><p>“Come on.”</p><p>“Don’t <em> fucking </em>touch me…” He stumbles, slips. His last conscious act is to push the bard so he falls against the wall, instead of with...</p><p>“LAMBERT!”</p><p>Falling three floors, the witcher lands on the flagstone at the bottom of the tower.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> On the last page of the book is Jaskier’s portrait. He is sitting on the sofa in the main hall, his hands in his laps, a small smile on his face. Hope in his large eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The boy settling into the family he has always wanted.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Family, that is what the book is called.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“The old hen she cackled. She cackled on the fence.” Eskel’s large fingers stroke gently along Lambert’s face. “The old hen she cackled. And she ain’t cackled since.”</p><p>“You used to sing that to him when he was a child.”</p><p>Eskel sighs. “You should sleep, old man. You’ve been...”</p><p>Lambert feels two calloused hands pick up one of Lambert’s own, holding it tight between them. A kiss is pressed against the backs of the fingers. </p><p>“Not until he wakes up.”</p><p>“What if he…” Eskel’s voice breaks completely, and the door opens, closes. </p><p>Vesemir sighs, and one of the hands holding Lambert’s lets go, moving to rest against his shoulder. </p><p>“Your wounds have all been treated.” The old witcher whispers. “There is no pain. There is no anger or hatred waiting for you, only love. It’s safe, my boy. Come back to us. Your family is waiting.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> In Vesemir’s portrait he is standing on the balcony, looking out over the yard in the distance. Watching over his sons as they train.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In Eskel’s portrait he is sitting with one of the goats in his lap, chewing on the end of a piece of straw, his legs crossed, feet bare. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In Geralt’s portrait he is holding his silver sword, ready for battle, armour and hair shining.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pictures of Kaer Morhen and the valley. One of the cats (Hildegarde) that lives in the yard, and the horses in the stables.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Geralt has added his own sketches and words in the margins. Eskel has written out the lyrics to an old song he likes to sing. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The old hen she cackled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She cackled on the fence.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The old hen she cackled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And she ain’t cackled since.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> On the last page of the book is Jaskier’s portrait. He is sitting on the sofa in the main hall, his hands in his laps, a small smile on his face. Hope in his large eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Family, that is what the book is called. The book that they think he doesn’t know about. The book without a single picture of Lambert in it. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>But...Jaskier is allergic to cats. He avoids them. </p><p>Why did he draw Hildegarde?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Arguing Gods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he lays in the fog, Lambert forgets what is a dream and what is a memory. He is sure of only one thing. He is never awake. </p><p>He can hear something in the distance, strong winds and rain against the stone walls outside. Thunder. </p><p> </p><p>In the dream (memory) a tiny boy screams as his father pulls him out from under the bed, and slaps him. <em> Stop crying </em>. Lambert cries harder, and is thrown through the door, out into the rain and explosions and flashes of light and he screams, his arms around his head. He kicks the door, desperate to be inside the house for maybe the first time in his life. He bangs at the wood until his fists are cut. </p><p>But the door does not open. His family doesn’t want him inside.</p><p>His family doesn’t want him. </p><p>His family doesn’t...</p><p>He curls up on the ground, and squeezes his eyes shut as the lightning fills the sky, and he shivers against the cold rain. </p><p> </p><p>“Remember what I told you, when you were small.” A hand takes his own in the darkness, and Lambert tries to run to the voice. “It’s just gods arguing.”</p><p> </p><p>In the dream (memory), the wind batters against the castle walls, and Lambert hides under his blanket, tiny and abandoned. Sent to the Witchers because his family didn’t want him. </p><p>His arms and legs always ache from training, and he often has bruises all over.</p><p>But his belly is constantly full of warm food, which is nice. He has almost forgotten what hunger feels like.</p><p>The thunder starts, and Lambert pulls the blanket tightly around himself, curling into a ball. On the other side of the room, Janek screams himself awake, sobbing as he sits up in the bed, his hands wrapped around the tiny blanket that is all that he has left of his mother. </p><p>“Don’t.” Lambert whispers. “They’ll put you outside.”</p><p>Janek doesn’t hear him, and he screams as lightning flashes through the dormitory, burying his face in the blanket.</p><p>The door opens, and Vesemir picks both Janek and blanket up without a word, carrying them out of the room. No. </p><p>No. No. No.</p><p>Lambert crawls out of the bed. He’s terrified, but he has to...he has to help Janek. Vesemir is going to put him outside in the storm. He won’t...</p><p>He grabs his boot, the only weapon he has, and runs on tiptoes into the corridor, following Vesemir. He has to. Aim. And. Throw. </p><p>Vesemir turns, catching the boot mid air where it would have struck his head. His teeth gritted, he throws the boot to the ground and shakes his head. “Gods dammit, Lambert. I should tan your hide. Go back to bed.”</p><p>“Janek…”</p><p>“Janek is fine. He is frightened by the storm. That is all.” Vesemir turns, and continues down the corridor. “Go back to bed. We will discuss your behaviour in the morning.”</p><p>Lambert ignores him, and continues to follow the witcher to the main hall, flinching when thunder explodes outside. He crouches into a hiding place, watching while Vesemir sits on the sofa by the fire, a now hiccuping Janek sitting in his lap.</p><p>“It’s just the gods arguing.” Vesemir says, looking at the ceiling. “They’re up there having a little squabble, like how you and your brothers fight in the yard sometimes. But they’ll forgive each other eventually, and then the sky will calm down.”</p><p>And then, Vesemir looks right at where Lambert is hiding. “We’ll just sit here and wait for the gods to be friends again.”</p><p>Lambert nods, and starts to walk towards the sofa, climbing up next to Vesemir and holding Janek’s hand.</p><p>“It’s just the gods arguing.” Lambert says. </p><p>Years later, Janek dies in the trials and Lambert’s eyes change. He can see more, hear more, feel more. He lays in the bed, covered in sweat and screaming as the thunder fills his senses. Wind. Sound on sound and the smell. He can <em> smell </em> the rain. He thinks he can <em> feel </em> the wind.</p><p>No. Don’t scream. They’ll put you outside.</p><p>He screams. </p><p>In the dream (memory), arms wrap around him that are both too tight and not tight enough, and a strong voice fills his hearing. </p><p>“It’s just the gods arguing.”</p><p>Lambert nods, and his senses calm. </p><p>He doesn’t have to be afraid. </p><p>The gods will be friends again soon. And then the sky will be calm. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As he lays in the fog, Lambert can hear and feel something in the distance. A door opening, and the bed dipping as someone sits next to his feet. </p><p>“How are you, my boy?” Vesemir says, quietly. </p><p>“Can’t sleep.”</p><p>“Yes, this storm does seem to be quite violent. But it will pass. They always do. And Kaer Morhen has stood against hundreds just like this. You’re safe.”</p><p>Lambert feels a hand rest against his ankle. </p><p>“I know.” Jaskier says. </p><p>Vesemir sighs. “When they were children, I used to tell the boys that storms were caused by the gods arguing.” Vesemir has a smile in his voice. “Lambert was always terrified of them, but often there were other boys who were scared as well, especially the younger initiates. So as he got older, Lambert would forget his own fears and instead focus on comforting his brothers. I remember overhearing him talking to one of the other boys. Lambert was eleven at the time, I think. And he was just sitting cross legged on this boy's bed, telling him that there was nothing to be scared of. Because storms were just....”</p><p>“...the gods arguing.” Jaskier says. </p><p>Silence for a while. Just the wind slowly growing quieter. </p><p>“He loves you.” Jaskier’s voice is stronger now. “I know it must be hard to believe sometimes, the way he talks to you.” Jaskier laughs. “If I ever spoke to <em> my </em>father that way I’d get a hiding that would leave me standing for a fortnight.” He sucks the air through his teeth.</p><p>Vesemir chuckles, but the sound fades. “I would sooner have him angry at me than at himself.” Lambert’s hand is rested against the bedspread. “You’ve now seen first hand how...self destructive Lambert can be when left alone with his emotions.” Vesemir leans closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it, this time. I should have been watching over you. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It will be alright though, yeah?” Jaskier swallows. “I mean, he’ll wake up. And he’ll let us look after him and...and he’ll be happy again. He’s...he’s still in there, Vesemir?”</p><p>“Of course he is.” Vesemir stands, groaning as he stretches. “Too much of that bloody herbal tea. Watch him for a moment, my boy. I will not be long.”</p><p>The door opens and closes, and after a while Jaskier moves off the bed. </p><p>Lambert hears a chair scrape along the floor.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking.” Jaskier is where Vesemir had been. “Last month, when Vesemir sent us fishing. You and me. And you probably remember but sometimes people don’t remember things when they hit their head, and I just...I need to talk.” </p><p>Lambert needs to hear him. The voice is an anchor.</p><p>The storm is getting quieter. </p><p>“Well, we went out onto the lake in that rickety old boat you built and we were there for about half an hour or so and then you just stood up and shouted <em> boring </em> and threw a bomb into the water.” Jaskier chuckles. “And the boat rocked and...and we both fell in. Gods the water was cold, it was like hitting fucking ice.” </p><p>Lambert remembers. He remembers struggling against the cold and murk to find the bard. Grab him. Bring him to safety. </p><p>“You managed to push me back onto the boat. Climbed in yourself. And then you made igni in your hands to warm me up.” Jaskier bites his bottom lip. “Even though you must have been cold too, and using energy in magic would have made you colder, but you still…” </p><p>The world goes dark, but soon Lambert can see Jaskier’s face again.</p><p>“And then we looked out over the lake at all the fish that had surfaced with the bomb, and we started to laugh.”</p><p>The world goes dark, but soon Jaskier’s face is clearer.</p><p>“You’re such a good person, Lambert. That’s why your family deserves you. Why they love you. Not that love should need to be earned, bought and sold. But...sometimes it needs to be found. And it helps to have reasons for things. They make things real. Maybe that’s why the words sound similar. Rea-sons make things rea-l.</p><p>“Oh look at me babbling nonsense.” Jaskier blinks back tears, running a hand under each of his eyes and sniffing. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I guess I just...” He looks at Lambert’s face, and his eyes widen. “Lambert?”</p><p>A hand on Lambert’s cheek, blue eyes held over his own. Jaskier smiles, laughs, grips both sides of Lambert’s face as he kisses his forehead. “Hey. Lambert.”</p><p>The world goes dark, but then the blue eyes fill his vision again. </p><p>Jaskier stands from the chair, shouting through the door. “VESEMIR!” Then back to the bed, grabbing Lambert’s hand as Geralt appears in the doorway behind him. </p><p>Jaskier looks round at the White Wolf. “He’s opened his eyes.”</p><p>As he lays in the fog, Lambert can see the moon through the window. </p><p>The gods have forgiven each other. The sky is starting to calm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So today I passed 12000 kudos on my account!!! That is crazy!!! Thank you so much &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Christmas Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sleeping in a cot in the corner of Lambert’s room, Vesemir smiles as he is awoken by running feet on stone floors.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memories float through his mind. Boys waking with excitement at finding little boxes on the ends of their beds, running from dorm to dorm to show friends, the elder children warning the younger about the rule. Boxes are not to be opened until after breakfast has been eaten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And running feet on stone floors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dining hall, plates are soon discarded and boxes are spread across the tables. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The presents are simple. Sweets. Scarfs. Daggers. For the older initiates there might be repair kits or things to help with personal care. Combs. Flannels. Shaving kits, if they are old enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the infants, those who often have no memory of life outside of Kaer Morhen, there might be toys, something soft to hold while sleeping. Blankets. Building blocks and drawing kits. New boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir remembers an initiate who had been given to them as soon as he was weaned, now gurgling with delight at his box of straw and paper before throwing the pieces into the air and laughing and clapping as they fall down around him. His caregiver smiles fondly as he picks a handful of his own, dropping it in front of the baby’s head before wrapping him in his new blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More clapping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slightly older boy curls around a stuffed bear, cradling it like it is the most precious thing in the world and kissing the top of its head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two boys climb onto the table, mock fighting with their new daggers while their friends watch and laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And running feet against stone floors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It has been too long since Kaer Morhen has known the magic of Yuletide. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now there is running feet on stone floors again, quiet knocking on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir half expects the bard to climb onto the foot of his bed with a box (How old had Eskel been when he had done that? Six?).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Yuletide, Vesemir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Yuletide.” Vesemir says, rising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has a bag over his shoulder, and is holding a steaming pitcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me that you were not running while carrying that.” Vesemir says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier chuckles, taking a self care kit from the bag and placing this and the pitcher on the bedside table before climbing onto Lambert’s bed. “Happy Yuletide, Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert might be awake. It’s hard to tell. But his eyes are open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier takes it in his stride, reaching for a bowl and pouring the pitcher into it before picking up a washcloth, dipping it in the water and ringing it out. He uses it to wipe the drool that’s gathered on the corners of Lambert’s mouth and chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much planned for today.” Jaskier is saying, rinsing the cloth before moving to clean Lambert’s face and neck in general. “Geralt and Eskel are already preparing breakfast. Cold meats, cheese, and toast. Don’t worry, Eskel is going to help you with yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now don’t be like that. He volunteered. We won’t have you going hungry on Yuletide.” Jaskier taps Lambert’s nose, and the witcher opens his eyes again. “And after breakfast, there will be presents. Then we are going to sit in the main hall and tell stories. Geralt said that you can lay in his lap for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he speaks, the bard is sorting through the self care kit, taking out a small bar of soap and a clean razor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not on the bed, Jaskier.” Vesemir scolds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll change the sheets.” Jaskier argues back as he works the soap into a lather, applying it to Lambert’s face before picking up the razor. “Now, no igni blasts if I cut you, alright.” He smiles, and then gets to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is one cut, just below Lambert’s left cheek, and Jaskier apologises and hushes over and over in a gentle, soothing monotone as he holds the cloth against it, waiting for Lambert’s natural healing to scab the cut over. When it does so, the bard smiles and carries on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally he is cleaning off the last dredges of soap before holding up the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look twenty years younger, my dear Witcher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking hold of Lambert's sleeping shirt, Jaskier slowly works it over the witcher’s head and down his arms, smiling when they make eye contact again. He quickly cleans his friend’s naked torso and limbs, dabbing him dry with a towel before putting the bowl to one side and standing, reaching into the shoulder bag again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I took the liberty of raiding your wardrobe and just so you know…” He holds up a black shirt with red trim. “...if I am ever invited to sing in a Nilfgardian court, I am borrowing this shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinks, and Vesemir thinks that he sees the corner of the younger witcher’s mouth twitch up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir smiles fondly, moving to stand in Lambert’s line of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knew that you were a master of fashion.” Jaskier winks. “What other secrets are you hiding from me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He works the shirt over Lambert’s head and arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, trousers.” Jaskier reaches into the bag again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir sighs as he watches the scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has been like this ever since Lambert opened his eyes, settling quickly into his self appointed role as the injured wolf’s primary caretaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of it, Vesemir suspects, is guilt. Jaskier had been in the tower when Lambert had fallen, and no doubt had worked through the million and one ‘what if’ questions in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could he have stopped it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also knows that a large part of it is the bard’s natural instinct to make those around him comfortable and happy. Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>aches</span>
  </em>
  <span> to relieve pain when he sees it. To turn sadness into joy, be it with songs, companionship, or care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier loves everyone around him with his entire heart, and really, while Vesemir would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> wish what had happened to the youngest living Wolf on anyone, he can’t help but feel that Lambert is lucky that the injury happened while the bard was in Kaer Morhen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no doubt in his mind that Jaskier’s selfless devotion and love will aid Lambert’s recovery more than any potion over the coming, difficult weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he is not going to let his boy worry about his future today. Today is Yuletide, and Vesemir smiles again as he steps forward, working his arms under Lambert and lifting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier kisses Lambert’s cheek, and makes his way out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir tightens his hold ever so slightly, hugging as much as carrying the Witcher as Lambert’s head rests against his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Yuletide, Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinks, and Vesemir can’t help but feel that the eyes seem sad as they look out into the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now. Everything will be alright, my boy.” Vesemir whispers. “I promise. This is going to be a good day for you. We will make sure of it. Don’t fret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why are they doing this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They don’t want me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not in the book?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not a single picture…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’ve set up a sofa next to the dining table, pillows piled up so that Lambert can rest against them while still partially sitting up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel uses Axii to help Lambert to eat, and Jaskier turns to Vesemir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Axii only affected the mind. So, Lambert’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind</span>
  </em>
  <span> must be able to control his body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Vesemir agrees. “But if I left you in front of a working clothes loom would you know how to operate it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert just needs to remember how to move on his own.” Vesemir smiles at the younger witcher. “And you are already making progress just opening your eyes, my boy. You may even be back on the path by fall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But, </span>
  </em>
  <span>no pressure. If it is the following spring, it is the following spring. Or later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever happens, we’ll stay with you.” Eskel says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nods. “However long it takes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir smiles fondly, and returns to his breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel holds another fork loaded with a morsel of bread, a slice of meat and some cheese for Lambert to take, chew and swallow with Axii's guidance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, plates are discarded and presents spread across the table. A new book on magic history for Vesemir, a weapons repair kit and potion bottles for Eskel, an alchemy kit and book for Geralt. A lute maintenance kit for Jaskier, and a new notebook. From Vesemir there is a new shirt for everyone. From Geralt, tiny carved animals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert’s is a cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, Jaskier is standing in front of Lambert, with a package in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is from </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us in a way. Everyone helped me make it.” Jaskier rests the wrapped package on Lambert’s lap, and then slowly starts to open it. “You said how much you like my drawings. So...I made you a book of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel’s hands tighten on Lambert’s shoulders as Jaskier takes out the book, opening it to the first page. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert feels his heart stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiles, Vesemir and Geralt sitting beside the bard as he looks down at the first picture. “Vesemir was actually watching you train while he posed for this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In Vesemir’s portrait he is standing on the battlements, watching over Lambert as he trains.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Watching over his son.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turns the page. “We had to use axii on Assicker to make her sit still for long enough. Eskel wanted a relaxed pose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In Eskel’s portrait he is sitting with one of the goats in his lap, chewing on the end of a piece of straw, his legs crossed, feet bare.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Lambert can remember sitting with Eskel and the same goat, scratching the then newborn kid between the ears.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’ll need a name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Asskicker.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Asskicker?” Eskel chuckles. “Okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt posed for hours for his picture.” Jaskier lowers his voice. “I think I’ve managed to make him look even more handsome than he actually is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In Geralt’s portrait he is holding his silver sword, ready for battle, armour and hair shining.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert can remember standing opposite him, listening to Geralt’s advice before working through some sword moves while Geralt nods.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinks, and Jaskier turns the page.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hildegarde the cat purrs as Lambert sneaks her some ham. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The horses take sugar cubes from Lambert’s hand while he grooms them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some pictures of Kaer Morhen. Geralt wrote the words around them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home. Family. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eskel added the song.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The old hen she cackled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cackled on the fence. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The old hen she cackled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And she ain’t cackled since.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You used to sing that to him when he was a child.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>And on the last page, Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vesemir drew this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He is sitting on the sofa in the main hall, his hands in his laps, a small smile on his face. Hope in his large eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” Jaskier looks up, and his smile falls. “Oh, Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel has already noticed, pulling the younger wolf in to rest against his chest. “It’s alright, Little Brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nods, moving to hug Eskel with Lambert between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir stands behind the chair, his hand on Lambert’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And on the outside Lambert is calm, tears on his face the only clue to his emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But inside, beneath the injuries and exhaustion, Lambert is overwhelmed. Sobbing like a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And closing his eyes as his family tighten their embrace, Lambert’s own hands now resting on the book that Jaskier has placed in his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Family, that is what the book is called. The book that they thought he didn’t know about. Their Yuletide gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lambert is in every single picture.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes I wrote a christmas fic in September. This is my life now &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Training</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pleaase note new tags</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They call it training. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the yard, Geralt sits with his back against the wall, his legs open in a V shape so that Lambert can sit between them, his own back against the witcher’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel sits cross legged beside them, a gentle hand wrapped around Lambert’s right wrist as he holds the arm up into the Witcher’s line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can do it. Come on. Concentrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert swallows (He’s not sure when the ability came back, it just...is there now) and focuses on the hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Come on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Come on. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come on</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The index finger twitches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it.” Eskel smiles, clasping Lambert’s shoulder with his other hand, and the witcher wants to punch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Woot, rejoice. Lambert can twitch a fucking finger. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The youngest Wolf </span>
  <em>
    <span>glares</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the treacherous hand, teeth gritted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes </span>
  </em>
  <span>trembling with effort, and the index finger twitches again, barely any movement at all. Damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>mountains </span>
  </em>
  <span>travel more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The finger next to it twitches, the thumb, they...curl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Come on. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Pain, no it’s exhaustion. Lambert can’t tell the difference anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done, Lambert.” Eskel’s voice is soft as he lowers the hand, lifting Lambert’s left hand and holding it up in the same, tender way. “Just try and wiggle the fingers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stares at the hand like it’s the cause of all of his woes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he needs a rest, Eskel.” Geralt says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lambert makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. He’s not weak, he’s not pathetic, he’s not...</span>
  <em>
    <span>worthless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His father’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel. “Lambert, we can take a break. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They won’t put up with this, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, forever. He’s probably already on borrowed time. They’ll grow frustrated. Bored. They’ll cast him aside. He’s not worth the effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> worth the effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to </span>
  <em>
    <span>earn</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anguished whimpers continue in his throat as he concentrates, but the hand doesn’t even flinch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” Geralt whispers in his ear as Eskel rests his own hand against Lambert’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit today, a little bit more tomorrow.” The scarred witcher says. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk</span>
  </em>
  <span> the path, Little Brother. We don’t run along it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not walking, Eskel, I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> crawling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiles, uncorking a water skin and holding it up to Lambert’s lips like he’s a child. Lambert is thirsty though, so he takes a sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drinking on your own. No axii.” Eskel smiles. “Couldn’t do that a few days ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to punch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nods as he lowers the waterskin, and puts his arms around the youngest wolf, hugging him against his chest. “Let’s just rest for a bit, Little Brother. Then we can train some more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert hates himself for wanting to be held like this, for leaning into Geralt’s hold, eyes closed as Eskel rubs a hand up and down his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go. Just rest for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve them. He’s...he’s...he’s nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s disgusting. How many blankets has he soiled now? Waking up in a different room to the one he fell asleep in and not letting himself think about what happened in the night that meant he needed to be moved to a different bed, again! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s helpless. Carried everywhere, bathed by Vesemir or Jaskier in the morning. Until recently he couldn’t even swallow without an axii, and he still struggles with solid food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And today his biggest achievement will probably be moving a fucking finger and thumb on one hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he both yearns for and hates how </span>
  <em>
    <span>patient</span>
  </em>
  <span> his family is being. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How...no. Because they’ll grow tired. Or it’s an act. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this amuses them. Maybe they laugh and smile together when Lambert is asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, don't think that. You don’t think that.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Why is their hatred easier to believe than their love?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the effort they are making, and he literally can only just barely lift a finger in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes look down at his left hand, and he tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert, rest.” Eskel warns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He concentrates. His breathing picks up. His eyes hurt. He focuses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to...he’s not...he </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t be cast aside</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own parents sent him to the witchers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He won’t be that pathetic again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the hand doesn’t move, and Lambert feels a foul taste in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah shit. Wolf, lean him forward.” He’s disgusting. “It’s alright Lambert.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Axii, Lambert coughs at its command. He’s tired, he needs...no, fuck off Eskel. He’s not helpless...he’s not... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except he just vomited all over Geralt’s trousers, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>helpless. And Geralt’s comforting hand running up and down his back hurts as much as it soothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm...sorr…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh. You have nothing to apologise for.” Eskel says, quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrth...lsss nw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never.” Eskel shakes his head. “Even if you stayed like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the rest of your life, Lambert, you would </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> be special. Always be who you are in here.” He pats Lambert’s chest, over his heart. “You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be worthless. Not to us. Not to anyone that matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The finger on Lambert’s right hand twitches. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs. “I wish he could see himself the way we see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then let’s show him.” Jaskier says. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two days later as Lambert is turned onto his left side in the bed, he sees the picture that Jaskier has stuck there. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A boat on a lake, two people sat facing each other, one with a warm glow around his hands that the other is leaning towards. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The glow keeps him warm. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Lambert wakes up, he is in a different bed (Don’t think about it) and the picture has been stuck to the new wall. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>There is another beside it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A fork of lightning, seen through a large window. A boy sits cross legged on the room's bed, comforting the frightened child in front of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The weather grows warmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In training, Lambert slowly closes his right hand into a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fingers on his left hand twitch, and the hand moves up slightly before flopping in Eskel’s grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done.” Eskel says.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The third picture is Lambert fighting a Fiend. He is jumping off of a ledge, sword held above his head, ready to strike down. Legs bend behind him as he flies through the air. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Eskel is sat injured by a tree, watching. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert remembers this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Eskel tell Jaskier the story? </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can now curl his fingers into fists on both hands, and lift his hands up. His legs twitch if he concentrates. He can make circles with his large toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It leaves him exhausted, but he is able to cast a small igni flame in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done.” Geralt says. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fourth picture is of two men sitting facing each other across a table. Tankards of ale at their sides, cards in hand, smiles on their faces. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert is holding up the card that just won him the round, and Geralt is smiling, love in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eskel and Vesemir are sitting at the head of the table, laughing. Joy brought by Lambert and whatever lighthearted statement of victory he just made. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert remembers that Jaskier was sitting at the foot of the table, playing his lute. It’s a happy memory.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memory makes Lambert smile as he slowly lifts the fork to his mouth by himself, chews the food, and swallows.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts, Gods it hurts, but Eskel encourages and Geralt holds him, and he eventually bends his left leg , then his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done.” Jaskier says, patting his knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, Lambert makes a Quen bubble around both him and the bard, and Jaskier applauds him. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fifth picture is Lambert standing between a monster and his family. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That never happened, but Lambert knows that that isn’t the point. This is not a memory, but a promise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert knows that it would happen. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A sixth picture. The same as the first, but...reversed. And it isn’t Jaskier that drew it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is the wolf family that is standing between Lambert and the monster. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The style, the way faces are shapes, the absolutely rubbish way the hands are drawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is Vesemir’s drawing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert doesn’t realise that he is sobbing, really sobbing, until Vesemir lifts him into a hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks from the picture to the one of Lambert rescuing Eskel from the fiend. To the picture of Lambert keeping Jaskier warm in the boat. To the picture of Lambert making Geralt laugh as they play cards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They love him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he deserves them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And another small patch of his mind begins to believe that he has worth. And maybe, just maybe, one day there will be no dark patches left.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert’s left arm is over Eskel’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His right arm is over Geralt’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has a hand on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir stands before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lambert takes a step forward. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A picture of Lambert asleep in the garden, Hildegarde the cat is curled up next to his ankles. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This picture is finely detailed, and Lambert thinks that he posed for it without realising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks he knows when. He remembers waking up to Hildegarde purring in front of his face, gently pawing at his chin in a bid for attention while Jaskier chuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Autumn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert’s breath quickens, and then he nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt lets go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel lets go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One step. Two. Three. </span>
  <em>
    <span>THREE </span>
  </em>
  <span>whole steps on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert collapses into Vesemir’s arms, and the older witcher laughs as he holds him, rocking him and kissing his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sink into a sitting position on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done, my boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well done</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And tomorrow, it is four steps. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>On the sofa, Lambert lays in Geralt’s lap. Vesemir is holding his left hand, Eskel holding his right, and Jaskier is draped over Geralt’s back, looking over the witcher’s shoulder at the youngest wolf. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuletide afternoon, as they told Lambert stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Lambert says to Jaskier as he takes the drawing. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>One step. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans against the door to the main hall, panting from exertion as he looks at Vesemir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Old Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert.” Vesemir shakes his head. “Foolish idiot. I’ve told you about taking the stairs alone. You could have....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel looks around the door, winking over Lambert’s head, and Vesemir sighs, chuckles, and pats Lambert on the shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry, my boy?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lambert slowly takes the drawings down from his wall, and puts them in the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Family.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves up the one of them telling stories at Yuletide.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits cross legged at the bottom of the tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” He says to Jaskier as the bard hands him a mug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather heart felt for a cup of tea.” Jaskier sits beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.” Jaskier says, slightly confused. But he smiles when Lambert kisses his forehead, a gesture so </span>
  <em>
    <span>unlike</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lambert that it makes the bard laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert rests his head against Jaskier’s crown, and looks up into the tower stairwell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankful that he never made it to the top.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Relapse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please note new tags</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, Lambert realises that he has no memory of the fight with Eskel save for one thing, the other witcher’s facial expression when Lambert has finished his verbal attack.</p><p> </p><p>And the pain there.</p><p> </p><p>It had been trivial. Something about Eskel wanting Lambert to slow down in sword training in case he hurt himself. But it had been enough, on top of everything else, for Lambert to finally snap. To finally do everything in his power to make Eskel hate him as much as Lambert wanted to be hated. Despised. </p><p>Wanted? Did he want that?</p><p>When he is done shouting at Eskel, he realises that Geralt is now there.</p><p>“Take a walk.” Geralt says, standing between Eskel and Lambert. </p><p>Defending Eskel from Lambert. </p><p>Behind Eskel, Jaskier and Vesemir stand beside each other, looking from the scarred witcher to Lambert. </p><p>With Eskel. Against Lambert.</p><p>“Go calm down.” Vesemir says quietly, and Lambert can hear the disappointment in his voice. </p><p>Lambert’s heartbeat increases with every stumbling, still somewhat unsure step that he takes away from them. From their regret. Their anger. Hatred. Because he’s worthless. They hate him. Need him gone. Want him gone. </p><p>No! The book. The portraits. Nine months of them looking after him and helping him to heal. They wouldn’t if they didn’t…</p><p>But thinking about the portraits doesn't work today. </p><p>His memories of their kindness don't work today. </p><p>Because this is a day when all he can believe is that he is worthless and ungrateful and pathetic and weak and his heartbeat is so fast it hurts, and he can’t breath and his legs are...gone...he’s…</p><p>His reality has shifted and even knowing that it is his mind making up the reality doesn’t stop it from being real.</p><p>Because he can doubt.</p><p>Becsuse he had seen the look on Eskel’s face. <em> That </em> had been real. </p><p>And Lambert can’t breath. </p><p>He collapses on the floor of his bedroom, curling into a tight foetal position. He is trembling, shaking, and that’s his only movement. He can’t uncurl, he can’t stand. He can’t...can’t...can’t...heart thundering in his chest. Thunder. </p><p>God’s arguing. </p><p>Thunder and he can’t...he just wants to breath. He wants…</p><p>He thinks about the drawing. All of them sat around the table, playing Gwent. And he would do anything, give anything, to go back to that moment. </p><p>Knocking on the door. “Lambert?” Jaskier. </p><p>No. He whimpers. Pathetic. Childish crying. They hate him. They hate him. One bout of anger and he has torn it all apart. </p><p>He always was his own worst enemy. </p><p>Made his own father hate him before he was five years old. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye he can see the book just peaking over the edge of the bedside table. </p><p>Why did he let himself believe that he deserved to be loved?</p><p>Because he does deserve…</p><p>No…</p><p>The book…</p><p>No...</p><p>Heart hurts. Lungs burn. Body trembles. Can’t move. </p><p>There’s dust beneath his bed. A single cobweb from the leg to the floor. </p><p>“Lambert!” Hands on his arms. Laid on his back, his head laid on a lap. Jaskier’s lap.</p><p>“I can’t...” Lambert whispers as he looks up. “I can’t…” Move. Breath. Calm down. Lose you. Lose this. Be abandoned. Be… “I can’t…”</p><p>“It’s alright.” Jaskier says, calmly. “It’s okay. You're panicking so badly that your body is fighting it, like it fights sickness. Well, in humans. I don’t think Witchers get sick.” He smiles, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I always get attacks like this before exams. Every single exam. And I’m still here. So you’ll survive too, Witcher. Just try to breath. With me, come on.”</p><p>Isn’t the fucking bard listening? He CAN’T...</p><p>He can’t…</p><p>He gasps. Breaths in. Out. </p><p>“That’s it. Now again.”</p><p>In. </p><p>Out. </p><p>In. </p><p>The pattern continues for what might be hours. Then Lambert pushes against the floor, sitting up and turning to face Jaskier, still trembling. </p><p>“Lambert?”</p><p>“Get out, Bard.”</p><p>“No, I don’t think I will.” Jaskier says, shaking his head. “Do you understand what just happened?”</p><p>“You don’t know <em> shit </em> about what’s happening to me, kid.”</p><p>Jaskier stands, and moves to sit on the bed, looking down at Lambert.</p><p>“So tell me." He says</p><p>Lambert stands, although his legs still feel weak. He's weak. </p><p>“Nine months, Jaskier.” He holds up his shaking, weak hand. Points at his shaking, weak legs. “Nine <em> MONTHS </em>. I’m a fucking witcher, no injury should take more than nine months to heal. I shouldn’t be...”</p><p>“Now don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t just any injury. You damaged your <em> brain </em> . Vesemir said your mutagens are as good as rebuilding it. Recovery <em> will </em> take a long time.” Jaskier shakes his head. “You ask me, it sounds like this much progress in nine months is a miracle. If you had been human...”</p><p>“I’d be dead.”</p><p>“You’d STILL be paralysed. Completely. Forever. But you’re not. You’re healing, and you’re healing well.”</p><p>“Don’t patronise me, Kid.”</p><p>“Well, what <em> do </em> you want me to say, then?” Jaskier shrugs. “You think you should be recovering faster. But I think it looks like you’re going too fast. Just like Eskel said. And that…” He points at the spot where he had found Lambert collapsed. “...is why you <em> need </em> to let yourself slow down. You carry on like this, and what if your next attack is on the stairs?” He swallows. “Or out there alone on the path.”</p><p>The knot tightens in Lambert’s stomach.</p><p>There’s a knock against the door, and Lambert flinches.</p><p>“Who is it?” Jaskier calls, and Lambert flinches again, leaning against the wall behind him. </p><p>“It’s me.” Eskel says behind the door. “Is he in there?"</p><p>Lambert shakes his head, which is ridiculous. Why would Jaskier be in Lambert’s room alone? He closes his eyes. </p><p>“Come back later, Eskel.” The bard says.</p><p>“I just need to…”</p><p>“Later.”</p><p>There’s a pause behind the door, then they hear Eskel’s footfall fade away.</p><p>“You know that he doesn’t hate you, Lambert?” Jaskier stands. “Right now he’s pissed off with you. I am too. You <em> were </em> a horse’s arse back there.”</p><p>Lambert looks down. </p><p>“But we don’t hate you. And we won’t hate you the next time, or the time after that.”</p><p>Lambert shakes his head. “There won’t…”</p><p>“Yes there will.” Jaskier smiles. “You’re what, forty? Fifty? I suspect that you, my friend, are quite set in your ways now. And good, because we don’t want you to change. We’re already in love with you as you are?”</p><p>“If I don’t change, I’ll lose them.”</p><p>The knot tightens in Lambert’s stomach, and his legs feel weak. The wall is supporting him now. </p><p>“The other witchers? Why do you think you’ll lose them?”</p><p>Lambert doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to hear Jaskier agreeing with him. </p><p>He looks at the book. “Did you make it for <em> them </em>?”</p><p>“What, the book?” Jaskier looks from him to the book. “I made it for you?”</p><p>“When I found it in the library. It was all pictures of them and none of me. I was looking at the perfect Wolf family. A family without me in it.”</p><p>“Lambert…you thought that?” Jaskier shakes his head. “Why didn’t you say something? We would have...”</p><p>“I didn’t want to hear it, Bard.” Lambert shrugs. “I didn’t want to hear you all say why. I don't need to hear it. I already know the reason.”</p><p>“Is <em> that </em> why you got so upset, in the stairwell? Melitele, Lambert you must have felt…”</p><p>“And it is so easy to believe, you know? It makes <em> sense </em> .” His voice is getting louder. “It wasn’t <em> ever </em> meant to be a gift. But you felt guilty about what happened in the tower, and you thought let’s give poor Lambert a present. That’s <em> it </em> isn’t it. Go on. <em> Say it </em>.”</p><p>The knot is getting tighter. Painful. It aches everywhere. </p><p>“That’s why you helped me? Because you just wanted to make <em> yourselves </em> feel better.”</p><p>Jaskier stays silent, eyes glassy. “Why are you being so…”</p><p>“Well, you can all stop pretending to give a damn now because I forgive you. There. Done. No guilt needed.”</p><p>His chest feels...he can’t…</p><p>Jaskier crosses his arms, a dramatic pout on his face. “Well. If you <em> do </em> want everyone to hate you, you are going the right way about it.”</p><p>“Why aren’t you leaving then?” Lambert’s teeth are gritted. “Get <em> out </em>.”</p><p>“No.” Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m not going to leave you alone like this.”</p><p>Lambert shoves Jaskier’s chest, and the bard collapses against the bed, sliding off to the ground. “Get <em> out </em>.”</p><p>“Why?” Jaskier shouts back.</p><p>“Because being alone is better than living a fucking lie.”</p><p>And he leaves the room himself. </p><p>“Lambert, wait!”</p><p>“<em> Eskel </em> !” He finds the Witcher at the end of the hallway. “Go on. Say what you wanted to say!” He widens his arms. “How you wish I was dead. How I’m the weakness in this pack. Why did destiny spare me when all the other kids died? <em> TELL ME </em>!”</p><p>“Lambert, stop.” Jaskier is shouting. “Please.”</p><p>“What is going on here?” Vesemir’s voice echoes off the walls of the hallway. “Lambert?”</p><p>“Yeah I know. I’m a BIG disappointment. Well don’t worry old man. I’m leaving. First this tomorrow I’ll be on the path and out of your sanctimonious hair. Just like you want.”</p><p>He’s trembling.</p><p>“You’re not ready for the path, Lambert.” Geralt says.</p><p>“Good. It'll kill me faster.”</p><p>"Lambert, <em> stop this </em>." Vesemir demands. </p><p>Three witchers look at him, and he glares back, chest heaving as he forces each breath in and out.</p><p>And Vesemir shakes his head, taking a step towards the frightened creature that he had seen many times before. Too many times. Not just in Lambert but in many of the boys in his care. Boys, not Witchers. Not monster killers hardened to the path.</p><p>But frightened child desperate for security.</p><p>Vesemir's voice is gentle. “What’s brought this on, son?”</p><p>Son.</p><p>And Lambert remembers Vesemir’s drawing. The family standing between Lambert and a monster. </p><p>Son.</p><p>The knot tightens.</p><p>“Say something.” Lambert whispers. "Tell me what you want to say. Get the lie over with, please. I need you to..."</p><p>The drawing of them sat around him on the sofa, telling stories. </p><p>The knot tightens.</p><p>“<em> SAY IT </em>!” </p><p>The drawing of the gwent game.</p><p>The drawings lines up on his wall. Made <em> just </em> for Lambert.</p><p>“Fucking say it.” His voice cracks.</p><p>It is Geralt who steps forward, his hands resting on Lambert’s shoulders before sliding round to his back, pulling him against the larger Witcher’s chest.</p><p>“No.” He shakes his head, trying to break out of Geralt’s hold, but the other Witcher holds him, and Eskel is soon standing behind him, the two witchers holding their brother between them.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Shhh.” Vesemir whispers as he wraps his arms around all three Witchers. “Get all the pain out, son.”</p><p>Son.</p><p>Geralt nods, and Eskel kisses the back of Lambert’s head, and Jaskier takes his hand. </p><p>"I'm not letting you go this time." The bard is crying too.</p><p>Lambert can’t see, the world is a blur. He closes his eyes and feels his face press against Geralt’s shirt, the smell of horse and sweat and Eskel smells like the spices from the kitchen, and he tries to focus on that. Focus on that and not the painful claws wrapped around his stomach. Not the sobs ripping through him like blades, tearing him apart. He’s being torn apart.</p><p>Gods, what is <em> wrong </em> with him. Does he <em> want </em> the world to hate him? To hurt like this.</p><p>Why does hatred feel safer than loved? More stable. </p><p>But everything he said. Did. And they’re still holding him. And this feels safe too...</p><p><em> We don’t hate you. And we won’t hate you the next time, or the time after that </em>.</p><p>Lambert starts to sink into the feeling.</p><p>But the stuff he said? The things he said to Eskel? To Jaskier. He doesn’t deserve them. This. No...</p><p>He fights their hold but his movements are weak and all Geralt does is tighten his embrace, hushing him. </p><p>"The old hen she cackled." Eskel sings under his breath. "She cackled on the fence. The old hen she cackled. And she ain’t cackled since.” </p><p>They sink to the ground, and Lambert mentally leaves everything behind, hiding in the scent of horse and kitchen spice and the song that surrounds him like a shield against a world that hates him.</p><p>Loves him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Is he asleep?” Geralt whispers. </p><p>Jaskier looks round, smiling as he makes eye contact with Lambert. </p><p>"Not yet.” He strokes Lambert’s hair. "Hey, that was a good cry. How are you feeling now? I <em> always </em> feel better after a proper cry."</p><p>His smile fades when all he gets in response is a slow, unfocused blink. </p><p>"Vesemir?"</p><p>"It's alright, Jaskier." The older Witcher says, gently. "Just keep talking to him. Reassure him. He will be feeling extremely vulnerable."</p><p>Jaskier nods, before looking back at Lambert, his smile bright as he continues to stroke his hair.</p><p>Lambert doesn't know how long they sit there with him held between them. All he knows is that it is dark when Eskel carries him to his room, and quietly tucks him into the bed before laying on the blanket beside him.</p><p>"Don't think you're off the hook for what you said in the yard, little brother."</p><p>Lambert sighs. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Oh you will be, by the time I'm done with your training tomorrow."</p><p>Lambert nods, and slips into sleep.</p><p>"You’re a real ass sometimes, Lambert. But we love you." Eskel whispers as he settles beside him. "Always will."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Waiting out the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After waking up, Lambert doesn’t know how long he lays there in a daze, blinking slowly. The room is warm, someone having snuck in earlier and lit the fire while he was still asleep, but Lambert still feels cold. He curls up under the blankets, face pressed into the pillow. </p><p>The paralysis hasn’t returned, but Lambert feels like it might as well have. He’s not sure if it is that he can’t move, or doesn’t want to move. </p><p>Leaving the bed means facing the world. Means seeing Geralt and Eskel and Jaskier and Vesemir. Their silent judgement and hidden anger. Lambert trying not to fuck up again, even though he feels even more on edge than he did yesterday. And he is running out of chances.  </p><p>His stomach is still in a knot, and he can’t hold a thought for too long. He just wants to go back to sleep. </p><p>But he can’t even manage that. </p><p>There is a knock at the door and he closes his eyes, pulling the blanket over his head.</p><p>“Lambert?” Vesemir’s voice is gentle as the door opens, the elder witcher entering the room. “Are you awake?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Vesemir chuckles, and sits down on the edge of the bed, a hand resting on Lambert’s arm over the blanket. “How are you feeling this morning, my boy?”</p><p>“Peachy.”</p><p>When Vesemir doesn’t reply, Lambert sighs, and slowly lowers the blanket. He doesn’t even want to imagine how crap he probably looks. </p><p>His eyes are stinging. </p><p>“Are you hungry?” Vesemir says, quietly. “I can bring you some breakfast.”</p><p>“What happened to no meals in the bedrooms?”</p><p>The elder witcher smiles. “I’ll allow it for you, today.”</p><p>Lambert breaks eye contact. “I don’t need patronising.”</p><p>He pulls the blanket back over his head, and squeezes his eyes shut, hating the way his bottom lip is trembling. Holding everything in <em> hurts </em>, and he thinks that if he speaks again he will lose control.</p><p>Vesemir pats his arm. “What happened yesterday is understandable. You’ve been through a difficult year, and it finally came to a head. That is all.”</p><p>“Eskel didn’t deserve it.”</p><p>“No. But neither did you deserve to be in that much pain.” Vesemir smiles as Lambert peaks over the blanket again.</p><p>“Nothing works.” Lambert says. “Jaskier’s drawings. The guys helping me recover. You looking after me. And I'm still just waiting for you all to turn on me. I KNOW you will. Only thing that makes sense. I just wanted to get the waiting over with.”</p><p>“I know.” Vesemir nods. “It's not your fault, Lambert. You have a lot of anger to work through. A lifetime of it. The trials...”</p><p>“Geralt and Eskel went through the same crap.” His voice is harsh. “You did too. We’re all Witchers, but you don’t…”</p><p>“No." Vesemir shakes his head. "We don’t.”</p><p>Lambert huffs.</p><p>“I don’t have many memories of my trials.” Vesemir says. “But I do remember thinking that it was worth it. That I <em> wanted </em> to be a Witcher. Because I would think about my human brothers and sisters, my parents, and I knew that as a Witcher I could protect them from the monsters.”</p><p>Lambert turns to lay on his back, looking at the ceiling.</p><p>“Geralt would often speak of his own mother, and his friends from childhood. Eskel would think of his hill tribe. The kind, gentle world that he wanted to preserve.”</p><p>Lambert feels his jaw tense.</p><p>“But you. You went through the same training, and the trials, and for what? To protect a world that abused you.”</p><p>Lambert sucks in a breath, desperately trying to cling to his control. </p><p>"You were suffering for a world that deserved <em> nothing </em> from you.” Vesemir says. “Destiny was not kind to you. It was unjust. And you have every right to be angry about that. You were just a child, Lambert. A child that I dragged into torture. Like I did so many children. I thought what I was doing was necessary, but I will never forgive myself for it.”</p><p>Lambert nods, and clenches his fists, eyes closing as he mumbles under his breath. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You gave me a family.” Lambert hates the way his voice breaks.</p><p>Vesemir nods. “And you know that your brothers would do anything for you. As I know that you would do anything for them.”</p><p>“I know that, really. I just...”</p><p>“It’s confusing, I know. You just need us to reassure you. And we did yesterday, I hope. We held you, protected you. And we will today. And tomorrow. Everyday that you need it. And then you will be strong for a while, as you have been. And if, in the future, your anger troubles you again, then we will support you."</p><p>Lambert turns into his side again. "I don’t want to be like this."</p><p>"And you won’t be, not forever. But you will need ongoing support, there’s no shame in that." Vesemir leans down into his line of sight. "You are one of the best alchemists this school has ever produced. So name me a potion that, once taken, works forever.” </p><p>Lambert thinks, then shakes his head.</p><p>"Exactly." Vesemir smiles. “They all wear off eventually, and then you need another dose. Another day like yesterday. BUT with a difference.”</p><p>Lambert nods, curling up.</p><p>“The difference being that next time you feel the anger hurting you, you tell us.” Vesemir says. “Don’t wait until it makes you lash out at your brothers. As you said, they don’t deserve it. And there will be repercussions if you hurt them that way again.” </p><p>Lambert doesn’t reply. </p><p>"BUT, one of those repercussions will never be us abandoning you, or giving up on you. Remember that, Lambert. And also remember that storms always end. And this storm will too. We just have to wait it out."</p><p>Finally, Lambert has the energy to sit up in the bed, fingers curled around the edge of the blanket. “It hurts today.”</p><p>Nodding, Vesemir moves up the bed, and wraps his arms around the younger witcher, holding him close. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next day, Lambert steps out into the yard, a blanket protecting him from the chilled air.</p><p>Jaskier is sitting on the wall, lute in hand, while Geralt and Eskel practice their signs on a training dummy.</p><p>“Lambert, you lazy ass.” Eskel shouts. “You missed training again this morning.”</p><p>“Figured I’d let you have some one on one tuition. Your footworks sloppy.”</p><p>Eskel laughs, then grips the back of Lambert’s head, bringing their foreheads together. “Rough day again yesterday. How you doing?”</p><p>“Better”</p><p>“Good.” Eskel leans back. “Come on. You look beat. Let’s go see Hildegarde. Her kittens are getting big now.”</p><p>They go via the kitchen, collecting together a small collection of cold meats before heading out to the corner of the yard where, a few weeks ago, Lambert and Jaskier built a warm nest with coats and old blankets. </p><p>Sure enough the cat is laid out across this now, nursing the four tiny bundles. She greets Eskel with suspicion, but quickly warms to Lambert, especially when he holds out the first of the cold slices of ham. </p><p>Eskel watches the scene fondly. “How much longer till the kids are on solid food.”</p><p>“Another couple of weeks.” Lambert hands the cat another slice, and scratches her behind the ears. “Best we leave that to her. She needs to teach them to hunt.”</p><p>“Long as she starts in the stairwell. Saw another damn rat in there this week.”</p><p>Lambert looks down, smiling as a tiny ginger kitten starts pawing at his wrist. “I caught Geralt in there the other day, just sat staring at the blood stains on the floor.”</p><p>“Caught myself doing that once or twice.”</p><p>Lambert shrugs. “Not like I died.”</p><p>"You weren’t breathing.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Eskel looks away for a moment. “You were lying there, blood under your head. And you weren’t breathing. Not at first. Geralt had to breathe for you, till the potions could fix you enough.”</p><p>Lambert slowly nods, feeling that now familiar knot in his stomach. “Geralt did that?”</p><p>“Try not to think about the specifics too much.” Eskel smirks. “But yeah. We came so close to losing you that day, Lambert. Thank the gods that Jaskier was there. If you'd been alone, if we hadn't found you in time."</p><p>Lambert picks up his hand. "You all saved me."</p><p>"Always." Eskel scoots closer, which earns him a warning meowl from the cat. "Need to ask you something?"</p><p>Lambert nods.</p><p>"Been talking to the old man. In the spring, I want you and me to set out on the path together. I’ll keep up your training on the road, and we can do simple contracts in Kaedwen. Stay close enough to come back to Kaer Morhen if we need to. If...if it turns out that it’s too soon for you.”</p><p>"But you like to hunt in Kovir?"</p><p>"Geralt can handle Kovir this year. And, if you're feeling stronger come summer, we can head there."</p><p>"We?"</p><p>"Lambert. I <em> want </em> to do this. Help you to get back to the path. If, when spring comes, you feel ready."</p><p>“Okay.” Lambert nods. Then he stands. “I’m going to go for a walk.”</p><p>“I’ll come with…”</p><p>“No. I...I need to think. Besides...” He chuckles quietly. “...was you that challenged me to get all the way to the watchtower by myself.”</p><p>“Stick to the roads.” Eskel nods, standing. “And wait when you get there. One of us will come pick you up.”</p><p>“Yes, Dad.” Lambert nods, and sets off.</p><p>“Lambert?”</p><p>He turns back. </p><p>“You’re doing good, little brother.”</p><p>Lambert looks down to the ground, and turns to walk towards the gatehouse. </p><p>“I’ll try and get some fish for dinner. You’ll need it after that walk.”</p><p>And he smiles. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It's slow going, and he has to stop several times, but finally Lambert is sitting in the watchtower, eyes closed as he turns his face towards the sun and stretches out his tired legs.</p><p>It isn't long before he hears a horse approaching. Roach, although it isn't Geralt riding her.</p><p>“Does Geralt know you’ve kidnapped his horse?”</p><p>“She needed the exercise.” Jaskier says as he dismounts. “And besides, he’s too busy helping Eskel prepare to take you on a surprise hunting trip tomorrow. One that I’ve not told you about so act surprised.”</p><p>Lambert desperately tries to stop the childish grin that comes to his face, but fails miserably.</p><p>“Your noble steed, my dear Witcher.” Jaskier indicates Roach, who is now chewing on the edge of a bush, with a sweep of his arm. He helps the Witcher to mount her before climbing up behind him, his arms secure around Lambert’s waist. “Ready?”</p><p>It has been nearly a year since Lambert last rode a horse, but it soon comes back to him as he makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and encourages Roach back onto the road at a slow, gentle pace. </p><p>“So. What do you want for yuletide?”</p><p>“You’re thinking about Yuletide already?”</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier chuckles. “Need to be able to get down into the towns and back before the path closes for winter.”</p><p>“I’ll have a think.” He sighs, and then looks over his shoulder. “Going to need your help with mine, Bard.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Got an idea for a present for the old man, but I can’t draw for shit so…trust me, I’ve tried.”</p><p>“Can I see your attempts? I’m sure they're not as bad as you think they are.”</p><p>“I threw them into the fire.”</p><p>“Awe.” Jaskier rests his head against Lambert’s back. “I can help, <em> but </em> I’m sure it will mean more to Vesemir if you make the drawings.”</p><p>Lambert nods. “Maybe.”</p><p>“What did you want to draw?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Vesemir smiles as he is awoken by running feet on stone floors.</p><p>They meet around a breakfast table full of sausages, bacon and beans. </p><p>Lambert smiles as he sneaks a small drop of milk onto a spoon and lowers it to the ground, where it is lapped up by the kitten that has taken to following him everywhere he goes.</p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p>“I thought the orange one was a boy?” Geralt says.</p><p>“Turns out I can’t gender kittens for shit.” Lambert shrugs as he sits back up. </p><p>Breakfast is finished and they move to the seating area by the fire, although Lambert stays standing. </p><p>“I’m going to go first this year.” He says, reaching into the bag beside him and handing out packages. </p><p>Geralt opens his first, finding himself looking at an impressive leather saddle bag, with pouches for potion bottles.</p><p>“I picked it up during the supply run we went on in autumn.” Lambert says, biting his bottom lip as Geralt opens the bottles. “I made a menthol potion. It stops poisons and attacks from closing your airways.”</p><p>“Keeps you breathing.” Geralt nods.</p><p>Jaskier laughs as he opens his present, holding up the black shirt with red trim. “You remembered.”</p><p>“It looks better on you than it ever did on me.”</p><p>“Oh I doubt that very much.” Jaskier smiles, and hugs him.</p><p>Beside them, Eskel looks at the pan flute.</p><p>“Lambert made that.” Jaskier says. “And it ties into my yuletide present for you, which is free lessons.”</p><p>Eskel chuckles. </p><p>“Geralt said that they play instruments like that in the hills." Lambert says. "So I thought...”</p><p>Eskel nods. “Thanks, Lambert.”</p><p>Vesemir is quiet as he looks at his present, a small book held together by string, the cover blank. </p><p>The drawings on each page are crude, sketched by an untrained hand. But the subject is clear.</p><p>The first page is a small boy, crying as he is hit by the man towering over him. </p><p>The second page is the same boy, being led away by the hand by a man in armour, with two swords. </p><p>The third page is the same boy again, now sitting on Vesemir’s lap, smiling. Behind them, through the window, can be seen a fork of lightning. </p><p>The fourth picture is the boy crying again, this time strapped to a table. </p><p>Vesemir closes his eyes, and turns the page.  </p><p>The boy again, his eyes now cat like. His arms are wrapped around Vesemir, and Vesemir’s arms are wrapped around him. Through the same window is another fork of lightning.</p><p>And written underneath, the words <em>It's just the gods arguing.</em></p><p>Vesemir closes the book quietly, and rests both palms on it.</p><p>After a moment, he looks up. And the sound seems to leave the room. </p><p>Lambert shakes his head. </p><p>Because it can’t be right. </p><p>Vesemir <em> never </em> cries. </p><p>The elder wolf sniffs, nods, and puts the book to one side before standing. “Thank you, Lambert.”</p><p>Geralt puts an arm around Jaskier, who in turn puts one around Eskel, and they form a circle with Lambert in the middle.</p><p>“Right.” Eskel is the first to break the hug. “Snowball fight, later?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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